Coming Clean
by Breanne Nedra
Summary: "You forgave me, so I guess it's only fair that I forgive you, too." "It's not like what I did is any worse than what you've done." "Maybe not to me." He glances to the side, and her heart gives up beating cold turkey. : A hurt/comfort oneshot


**10-13-2014 \/ Breanne Nedra  
**

The doctors tend to her ex-best friend, the others mill about taking care of the newly rescued hostages, and she whiles away the time holding up the wall in the corner because talking sounds like a major hassle. Soon, however, she is joined by a muscular boy with blond hair, who joins her at the wall – she purses her lips in distaste, but keeps her objections to herself.

"Crazy month," he comments lightly, arms crossed over his chest. He, too, is watching the paramedics tending Amy Cahill.

She nods. "I agree." Her voice is tight.

"You know," he continues, "I still can't really believe what you did. Turning against us, sure, we mean nothing to you, but your brothers..." He shakes his head. "Especially Ted. What was your big plan to get him out of hock?"

She ignores him, and barely notices as her eyes scan the room until they land on her brothers.

Ned and Ted are sitting on a couch in yet another corner, laughing, talking, relishing having each other again and eating soup and sandwiches. Every hostage had wanted something different to eat after getting saved, which was understandable, and everyone pitched in to help cook all the food. Her brothers look so much better now that they're back together and able to heal in peace.

Hamilton sighs. "Fine, don't answer me; sorry I asked."

"I didn't have a plan, Hamilton." She looks at him, finally. "I worked with whomever could help me, help Ned and Ted, and at the time, it was Damien and the Vespers. No one else could, and I was prepared to make tough decisions and sacrifices to get that help – even if it meant helping an enemy."

"But how do you think your brothers will take it when they find out that _you_ were Vesper Three – that _you_ were the Vesper Mole, the one in charge of making sure that Ted stayed trapped in that rotten hole he was locked up in so that he and Ned might never have been reunited?"

"They won't find out."

"Someone will tell them – eventually. Maybe it won't be today, maybe it won't be tomorrow, but the longer it takes for them to find out, especially if they find out from someone who isn't you, the worse it will hurt."

Sinead gives a quiet, indignant huff. "I love how you're standing here talking to me like you've never done anything wrong."

"I've done things wrong," Hamilton replies. "Plenty of things. But I've never forsaken those I love most."

"Get over it, Hamilton." She stares hard at the ceiling. "It's not like I plan on doing it again."

"Well, you forgave me two years ago, so I guess it's only fair that I forgive you, too."

She chuckles humorlessly. "It's not like what I did was any worse than what you've done."

"Maybe not to me," he murmurs. He glances to the side, past her, eyes cloudy with an emotion she couldn't quite decipher. She follows his gaze and her heart gives up beating cold turkey, her mouth immediately goes dry.

Ted is standing a few feet away from them, hugging the wall, his face troubled. Suddenly, he looks like a little boy, scared, lost, and alone. "What are you saying?" His voice is just barely over a whisper.

"Have fun coming clean, Sinead. Look at this as a favor." And Hamilton departs, moving to go talk to someone else – Sinead doesn't know or care who.

She releases a breath she hadn't known she was holding in a reluctant sigh. "Listen, Ted-"

"No," he says quietly. "Did Hamilton say what I think he said? You forsook us?"

"No, no, that's not what he..." She stops herself. Coming clean is the best way. "I forsook the Cahills, yes. But not you, Ted. Not you. Never you or Ned; I wouldn't dream of it."

His pause seems to last for eternity. "What did you do?"

"How much of the conversation did you hear?"

"From: 'They won't find out.'"

She takes a deep breath. "I was Vesper Three. The Mole. I made sure the Cahills didn't learn anything that... that Vesper One didn't want them to know." At her brother's pained expression, she continues, "I did it for you guys."

"For us? Me and Ned? What made you think we wanted you to become a Vesper?"

"I didn't," she replies. "They promised me that they'd protect you, that you'd be safe. Cured, even. They said they could help you, and that when everything was over, they would, and you'd be back to normal. You know how badly I've wanted that ever since the..." She doesn't speak the word. She remembers their unspoken rule about bringing up the incident.

"Sinead, I would rather be blind for the rest of my life than lose you," he says. Although his words are quiet, there's a forcefulness behind them. "You're my sister and I love you. And as cliché as it may sound, you need to remember that that is _always_ enough."

"But, Ted-"

"No buts," he says firmly, and she silences herself. His voice takes on a softer tone as he says, "Sinead, I forgive you for going behind our backs and everything, and I know Ned will too, because we know you, and why you did it. But I need you to promise me that you'll never do anything like that again, because you being here for us means more than anything you think you're accomplishing by _not_ being here for us. Okay?"

Tears brimming her eyes, she nods, and steps forward to envelope Ted in a hug he gladly returns. "I just wanted you guys to be your old selves again. The Vespers seemed like our only chance."

"We'll get there," he reassures her as they pull apart. "We'll keep working with the doctors, and sooner or later, we'll get there. I promise."

She nods again. "I have faith in us."

"Me too." Ted smiles. "You know, we have to tell Ned about all this, too. It's only fair."

"You're right," she agrees. "Let's go tell him."

They link arms and head to the couch Ned is still sitting on.

Neither are aware of Hamilton Holt's eyes following them, or the knowing smile that spreads across his face as the triplets sit down together.

* * *

_**Note: Hi, guys! It's been a while since I posted anything. I haven't been writing much; these last couple months have been hectic. However, I remembered I had some stories and poems in my documents folder that I never published for one reason or another, and decided that I would release them slowly - one every couple of weeks - to reintroduce myself to the archive.**_

_**On a more relevant note, this short story I wrote in a stroke of inspiration takes place immediately after Day of Doom (hence why paramedics are attending Amy). This has been edited, so there shouldn't be any errors (because I'm OCD when it comes to them and they drive me mad so I check everything a minimum of three times before posting it), but it's also a first-and-only draft, so if it's not up to standard (although I feel it is), that's probably why.**_

_**As usual, I hope you liked it, and thanks so much for reading!**_

_**Hugs,**_

_**Bre xoxo**_


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